Tales from the Alley
by Mary Likes Stuff
Summary: A collection of oneshots ranging from silly to sweet to serious, and all seen from the eyes of the alley's six residents.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Thanks so much for stopping by, whether it be due to boredom, curiosity or both.

The following is a collection of one-shots not really having any real connection other than the fact that they're all Top Cat related. Updates will most likely be sporadic, as I'll update whenever I'm struck with a new idea for a oneshot. I'll also be happy to take ideas for oneshots from readers, so don't be afraid to suggest something. Critique is also welcome, so feel free to leave some if you'd like. Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

It was a stupid idea. The dumbest idea he'd had yet.

Thinking he could find her on his own, and in such a big, scary place.

The kitten chided himself as he scurried along, trembling and looking up with wide, helpless eyes at all the frighteningly tall people passing by. They were so big. They could very well flatten him. At least that's what he pictured in his terrified little mind.

His mews went ignored as large feet shuffled past him, stepping into buildings and cabs. Lights flashed, dizzying him, and as if the booming steps and lights weren't frightening enough, the sounds of the deafening, honking horns had the kitten shaking twice as hard. He never thought he'd think it, but he actually wanted to go back to the orphanage. He had at least felt safe there.

Fat lot of good it did him to think it now though, as he couldn't remember the way back. He was stuck. Lost again in this giant, intimidating metropolis, and still without his mother.

"..m-momma..."

Pathetically, he dragged his tiny feet further out of the way of the giants walking past, ducking behind a mailbox. He would have dried his eyes with his paws as he went, but he was using them to cover his ears from all the blaring noise.

Once off the sidewalk, he crawled onto an empty stoop that turned into an empty alley.

The sun had set hours ago, and even though the street lamps were lit, it was still entirely too dark for the kitten's liking, night vision or not.

The alley was quieter, thankfully, but the temporary peace didn't do much to make him feel better. He sat there for a moment, shaking and chastising himself in his head, until finally rearing his head back and doing the only thing he could honestly think to do at a time like this.

He bawled.

He wailed and sobbed, filling the alley with an ear-piercing mix of whimpers, meows and cries for "momma!" Goodness, what a sorry sight he was. His dirty fur became utterly drenched with tears, but he was certainly beyond the point of caring.

He was going to die here. The kitten knew so for sure. He would surely starve if a stray dog didn't come along and gobble him up first.

Why did he ever wander away from his mother? Why did he have to be so stupid?

He'd skipped away from her for only a moment to catch a glimpse of a tantalizingly scrumptious looking hotdog sitting beautifully on a vender's cart. It had been surrounded by several more just as tantalizing looking dogs, and the smell had been so strong and delicious, it pulled the hungry kitten over without him even realizing. He turned eagerly back to his mother to ask if they could buy one, but he was met with the sight of no one standing beside him. His mother's plump, round little figure had simply vanished into the crowd.

"I'm sorry, momma.." he cried, burying his wet face in his paws. "..I... I s-shoulda listened to ya.. I shoulda held your hand lika ya said..."

There was a shuffle in the alley, but the kitten didn't hear it over his own wails.

"I want my momma!"

Another shuffle. Still, the kitten didn't notice. Tiny footsteps began to draw near, but the blue kitten didn't look up from his sad little spot on the stoop.

"I'm never gonna see momma again," he wailed, sniffling and coughing until his sentences finally dissolved into inaudible heaves that continued to ring out through the alley. He would have probably kept it up all night if not for-

"That's impressive, kid."

Benny stopped.

The sudden second voice made his current sob die right in his throat, and the fear he'd felt on the street immediately returned, like a shot straight up his back, upon realizing that he wasn't alone. His face was still in his hands, and he was too scared to look up at whoever was standing in front of him.

Perhaps that stray dog he'd fearfully thought of earlier was here to gobble him up.

The blue kitten gulped, and peeked through his shaking fingers.

He felt the closest thing he'd felt to relief since getting lost when he saw it was only another kitten. One just slightly bigger than him, but still rather small. He was thinner too. At least as far as he could tell from underneath the oversized shirt the kitten was wearing.

Said kitten sneered at him in annoyance from beneath a straw hat that was several sizes too big for him. Though despite having to push the hat back several times due to it constantly falling over his eyes, the scruffy yellow kitten still managed to look intimidating.

To a tiny, scared, orphaned blue kitten, at the very least.

Benny whimpered under his glare, fear returning. He shrunk back and curled up into a trembling ball, wishing he'd never gone down the alley at all. After a moment the sentence the kitten had sourly muttered earlier registered, and Benny very meekly asked in a pitiful squeak of a voice, "...w-what's impressive?"

The yellow kitten raised an eyebrow underneath his hat.

"How somethin' so tiny can be so loud. Clam it, would ya."

Benny felt like breaking down into a whole new wave of sobs, but he bit his tongue and kept it in, lip quivering away as he did, indeed, clam up.

"Yeesh," the kitten ran a paw down his annoyed face, walking off to the left. "Save the cryin' bit for when folks is actually awake, would ya? That ain't gonna get ya a pity buck now, kid. Just a boot to the head."

The kitten peered up at the apartment buildings above them, scanning for any movement.

When no angry tenants appeared with things to throw, the kitten stomped back to the whimpering ball of blue fur still quivering away on the porch and gave him tired, half lidded look of irritation."

"You want yer momma so much, then beat it and go home."

"...I.. I can't. I'm lost."

The kitten rolled his eyes and groaned. "'Course you are."

He crinkled his nose and walked off, seemingly leaving Benny alone. Benny didn't know whether he felt relieved or not.

After a moment of silence, and feeling certain that the yellow kitten wasn't returning, Benny broke down crying once again, though this time not as noisily. He wept and wept until he was nearly completely out of tears, at which point he simply sat there on the cold steps silently as his final lingering tears ran down his face.

He stared down at the ground with dulled eyes, ready to give up on whatever tiny shred of hope he had left until a half empty box of crackers was suddenly pushed towards his face.

The blue kitten jumped back in alarm, and gaped up at the yellow kitten in confusion. He was back, and held the box of crackers out to him with a bored look on his face.

"Here, kid. Maybe this'll shut you up."

Benny blinked, unsure of whether or not to take them.

"I'm guessin' if you're lost, you're probably hungry, right?"

A grumble from Benny's stomach relayed the answer for him, and also managed to get a small smirk out of the yellow kitten, who quickly forced his face back into a cool frown.

"Yep. I was right."

Benny looked away, embarrassed, but somehow willed himself to reach out for the offered food. He was honestly surprised when the yellow kitten didn't snatch the box away. Seems it wasn't a prank after all.

The crackers were stale, but after a day and a half without eating, anything tasted good to him. The yellow kitten's eyes actually widened in bile fascination and a little disgust as Benny scarfed them all down in two large gulps.

The smaller kitten let out a tiny belch, chuckled sheepishly, and then uttered a timid, "thank you."

"Uh. Suuure."

Benny licked his paws, clearly still hungry, while the yellow kitten sat himself down on the stoop beside him. He leaned back against the railing, getting into a comfortable slouch, before giving the smaller orphan a quick look over.

"You got a name?"

There were no more crumbs left to lick, so Benny instead twiddled his stubby thumbs shyly. He didn't dare look up at the kitten, still feeling far too intimidated by him.

"…B-Benny."

The yellow kitten gave a nod of acknowledgment. Benny felt a little awkward though, when he didn't say anything more.

"Um..." Benny meekly started, eyes looking up curiously, but only for a second before he forced his timid gaze right back down. "W-what.. what's your name."

His companion on the stoop gave a shrug. "Don't got one."

Benny looked terribly confused, and his round face certainly didn't hide it at all. Another brief moment of silence passed before he mustered up the courage to speak again.

"What do people call you then?"

Another shrug. "Dumb cat. Pesky cat. 'Insert adjective here' cat."

"What's an adjective?" Benny asked without thinking, then immediately regret it when the kitten snickered.

"Nothin' kid, forget it. Probably too big a word for ya."

Benny frowned, gaze falling back down to the ground. The yellow kitten, on the other hand, began giving his claws a bored glance over. "I ain't got no more food," he suddenly started. "But I can get some more tomorrow."

He paused, turning his glance upwards from his nails onto the blue kitten. "Could probably get twice as much if I had an extra pair of hands though."

It took Benny a good minute or two to put two and two together.

"Um.. w-what can I do?"

The yellow kitten actually gave a smile. Benny wasn't sure yet if it was a friendly one, but it was oddly nice just the same.

"Not much, kid, but if you listen to me, you'll be able to do tons."

Benny perked, and again didn't know whether or not this was a good thing.

Food sounded good though, and the strange confidence the other cat gave off actually seemed weirdly encouraging, so he gave a trembling nod. The yellow kitten's grin widened, but then turned into something almost resembling concern as he mistakenly took Benny's shaking to mean he was cold. "Jeez, that little jacket ain't doin' much for ya, is it?"

Before Benny could answer, the kitten stood up and dusted himself off with an odd air of class, not at all befitting someone homeless and living in the gutter.

"I got an extra blanket, kid. C'mon. Just don't start up with the cryin' noise again, you got it? Save it for the old ladies at the park tomorrow."

He hopped off the steps in what was almost grace, and strode back over to the trashcans waiting on the other side of the alley. He stopped mid stride to look back at Benny, with a look of tired impatience.

Benny immediately leapt up and followed without thinking, displaying not even a tiny fraction of the grace the yellow cat had displayed. He stumbled over himself clumsily until he was at the kitten's side, and looked up at him shyly for approval.

The yellow kitten only rolled his eyes and smirked before giving a yawn and leading his new clumsy ward to his home beside a telephone pole.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: This particular one takes place during the episode, "T.C. Minds The Baby." Other than that not much else to say, so enjoy.

* * *

The alley was almost unrecognizable. So many frills and ribbons. Top Cat mentally admitted to himself that it was actually rather nice on the eyes. Like the kind of lacy, pastel covered place a kindly old grandmother type would reside in. If it weren't for the trashcans and fence, they could very well put it on a Christmas card.

By this point at night every cat had conked out, fully exhausted from both dressing up the alley and hovering over their newest member all day. For such a tiny thing, Charlie certainly needed a lot of attention. It was the hardest any of them had worked since... well. Honestly, ever. Dibble would have probably been highly amused if they hadn't also spent the day hiding everything from him.

Only their leader and second in command were still awake, though their eyelids were drooping something fierce. There was relief on both their tired faces once Choo Choo had managed to rock Charlie back to sleep.

"Yeesh," Top Cat half groaned, half yawned. "He ain't makin' it easy."

The sweatered cat lovingly rubbed his furry face against the sleeping infant in his arms, gently so as not to wake him. "Aw, that's just how kids are, T.C."

"Yeah, well I wish you'd given me that particular memo before talking me into takin' him in."

The agitated leader leaned back against the fence, letting himself slide down into a sit. He winced, instantly regretting it as the pain in his aching back quickly made itself known.

"Hey, T.C.," Choo Choo started as he gingerly sat down beside his leader, Charlie wrapped up in blankets in his arms. "You're the only one who ain't held the baby yet."

Top Cat suppressed a cringe. "Oh, haven't I? Coulda sworn I did."

"Nah, T.C. Not yet."

Top Cat forced an exhausted chuckle, leaning back against the fence, looking as calm and composed as always. He did a marvelous job at faking it this time, at the very least.

"Well, that's fine. Kid's already had five fathers fussin' over him all day. What he needs is a break. 'Sides, it'll make him more independent."

"You sure, boss? He really likes ya."

"He's a baby. He likes everything by default, Chooch."

The pink cat gave a tired smile. "Aw, c'mon, T.C. Holdin' the baby feels nice. He's like a hot water bottle, only a heck of a lot cuter."

"Yeah, well, I ain't got a cold, so I'll pass on the livin' water bottle, thanks."

Just then Charlie suddenly let out a noise, startling both cats. Top Cat placed a paw over his chest, eye twitching slightly as Choo Choo rocked and shushed the kid softly. Only one day and the kid was already close to killing them. Top Cat was sure of it.

Charlie fussed, despite his pink adoptive father's attempts, and Top Cat felt his insides twist at the pleading look on Choo Choo's weary face. T.C. was a hard nut to crack, but guilt certainly did the trick.

As terrifying as it was, he reluctantly held his arms out toward his fellow cat, urging him to pass the baby over. The look of gratitude on Choo Choo's face was almost enough to calm his frazzled nerves.

Almost.

Top Cat couldn't remember the last time he'd honestly been this scared as the tiny living thing was placed in his lap. His body and tail stiffened as Charlie leaned up against his chest, stubby arms reaching up towards his whiskers. He was grateful that Choo Choo remained sitting beside him, but the ability to fake his usually calm exterior was good and gone.

He heard a soft snicker to his right, and if he hadn't been holding a tiny living thing, he'd have taken his hat off and smacked Choo Choo right in the nose.

"He ain't a bomb, T.C. He ain't gonna kill ya."

"Yeah, says you."

Another snicker escaped the pink cat, but a death glare from T.C. quickly made him zip his lip. He wasn't quite able to suppress his smile, though.

"Just calm down, T.C. It'll be all right."

Choo Choo cast his tired gaze down at the baby, reaching a paw out to caress his face as his currently uncharacteristically anxious leader remained stiff and terrified.

Said yellow ball of shaking fur gulped, urging himself to get a grip.

Honestly. He could handle cops, gangsters, hoods and card sharks. A baby should have been a cakewalk.

He took a breath, trying to steady himself. His heart was racing, and he swore it could very well stop dead at any minute if the kid so much as jerked too suddenly in his grasp. Babies were far too unpredictable. That's the reason why he couldn't handle them, he decided. He could always guess what a cop would do, but kids? Whole other ball game.

It took some time, but slowly his breathing started becoming even again, and his painfully quickened heart rate eased back down to normal.

Well, slightly, at least.

Along with his heartbeats, Charlie's fussing began to die down too as the minutes, which felt more like agonizingly long hours to Top Cat, raged on. The baby's late night turmoil was soon replaced with curiosity, and his giant eyes stared up at the new cat holding him. The cat in question couldn't even bring himself to look down, instead opting to bore a hole with his eyes into the telephone pole in front of them. Maybe if he pretended to be elsewhere, this entire experience would be over sooner.

A soft coo from Charlie broke him out of his fear-filled stupor though, making him look down.

Gold eyes met blue ones, and the baby's smile practically made Top Cat melt.

Sleep deprived as he was, Choo Choo still managed to feel a rush of giddy excitement at the sight of his leader's body finally relaxing, albeit it cautiously. Charlie giggled too, and the dark alley suddenly felt strangely nice.

"I told ya he wouldn't kill ya, T.C."

He would have replied with a sarcastic quip, but Top Cat couldn't really muster one up at the moment.

Charlie settled in his arms, cooing sleepily. The cat still felt nervous, but oddly enough it was the dang baby that had made him feel better, rather than vice versa. He didn't know whether he was proud of the kid or annoyed with himself for being such a wreck.

He felt Choo Choo also ease up against the wall beside him, and wondered whether or not if he should give the kid back. Part of him actually no longer minded the thought of holding him for a little while longer. A thought that scared him.

The warmth of Charlie's body against his fur eventually won out though.

Chooch was right. Kid really was like a hot water bottle.

After a few moments, and without even realizing it, T.C. began purring. His face instantly reddened beneath his fur once it dawned on him that he was doing so, and he fought the urge to toss the kid back to Choo Choo like a hot potato, feeling utterly mortified.

Choo Choo didn't notice however, as his ability to keep his eyes open was beginning to fail him.

"C-Chooch..."

His leader's jittery voice didn't register.

"Chooch, don't you conk out on me..!"

The pink cat gave a yawn.

"I swear, Choo Choo!"

He was just about to shake the traitor back awake, but Charlie nuzzling him made it impossible for him to free his arm. Swell. Just swell. This was the last time he'd ever do sleeping beauty a favor, he thought, as he gave the snoozing feline beside him glare that could probably scare even Dibble.

Now what in the heck was he going to do? He couldn't put Charlie back in his basket, as he couldn't get his legs to move, not even in the slightest. They might as well have been made of lead. Plus, even if he could move them, the fear of waking Charlie back up kept him firmly seated where he was.

Oh boy.

What did he ever do to deserve this, he thought.

Then quickly spat, "Don't answer that," in his mind, as the answer was abundantly clear.

He groaned, settling back against the fence with a wince, succumbing to the fact that he was stuck. Charlie, blissfully unaware of the stress he was causing his yellow father, only continued to sleep soundly in his arms. The night continued on, and the snores of his comrades merged into an odd sort of melody. Their tired leader would have greatly loved to join in, but the thought of abandoning Charlie, even for a few seconds of snooze time, forced him to continue willing his eyes open.

It was a fight he was sure he'd end up losing, but by gum, he'd try to hold out as long as he could.

Top Cat's tired gaze fell back onto the telephone pole, though he wasn't really looking at it. His thoughts were elsewhere, piecing together more food gathering plans, which he would put into full effect, come morning. He planned to personally set the gang's alarm himself, via the trashcan lids. Though it was doubtful that he'd be awake himself.

Heck, from the way he felt, he'd probably be in a coma by the time the sun rose.

He yawned, eyelids sagging ever lower.

Charlie's soft breath on his chest made a drowsy smile unconsciously form on the cat's face, and again, without realizing it, he purred.

The dull traffic in the distance seemed to grow farther away, and the pastel ribbons decorating the alley actually managed to look a little soothing beneath the glow of the moonlight. Just a little.

All of it, the traffic, the alley, the snores and Charlie's breathing, began to mesh into a bizarrely hypnotic rhythm, lulling the cat into a irresistible sleep.

He'd kick himself in the morning, but he just couldn't resist the pull. Even more embarrassing, for one slight moment his half awake mind actually somehow managed to trick him into thinking that maybe this whole screwy scenario might work out after all. Maybe they really could raise the kid.

Imagine it. A kid raised by cats.

The papers would go nuts. Heck, the kid could even make them famous. He could just picture it now. New York's very own Tarzan of the urban jungle. They could have movie deals, TV spots, the whole shebang.

Before long those all too familiar visions of dollar bills began dancing through the cat's head as he slowly slipped deeper into his comfortable, money filled slumber.

Only to be jolted right back awake when Charlie simply sniffled. The sniffle nearly made him jump right out of his fur, in fact, and the dollar bills all but vanished as he was instead overwhelmed with a sudden swell of panic.

Sick. The kid couldn't possibly be sick, could he?

In such a short amount of time?!

The cat pulled the blankets over the infant tighter and hugged him protectively from the night air, which honestly wasn't too terribly cold. It was on the warmer side, truth be told, but T.C. couldn't tell if that was still too chilly for the likes of a tiny baby or not.

Oh jeez, what a realization. He couldn't even tell what was too cold for the kid.

For crying out load, what was he thinking? The exhaustion had made him as loopy as the gang. Goey sentiment was nice, and thoughts of fame, fortune and money were even nicer, but sense clearly needed to win out. They couldn't possibly keep the kid here. Not in a dirty alley with nothing to keep him warm but a thin blanket or two. Plus it would be even worse once winter rolled around. The winters in New York were brutal. There's no way the kid would make it.

Top Cat shuddered at that thought, not releasing his protective hold on Charlie.

This wasn't gonna work, and though he knew the gang would protest, he had to tell them. He'd have to be adamant with them about it come morning, and not be swayed by their pleading faces or Benny's dang guilt tripping eyes.

Their leader had to be tough as nails. Spell it out for them good and clear that this whole deal just wasn't happening. Five other cats he could raise with barely a problem, sure, but Charlie? No dice.

For his own sake, he had to go.

The thought actually made T.C. feel surprisingly sad, but he swallowed it down, ignoring the bitter lump forming in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: This one takes place during "The Long Hot Winter." It's a lot of build up to a predictable gag, but I couldn't help childishly finding it funny nonetheless. Enjoy.

* * *

"Oh Dibble!"

The man in question gnashed his teeth, letting out the closest thing to a growl a human being had ever produced.

"Chop, chop, Dibble! You don't wanna lose a star for slow service, do you?"

Charles Dibble briefly wondered if there were any way he'd be able to explain strangling six cats to the sergeant.

"Tick, tock."

A fist slammed onto the table.

"I AM NOT—" the man yelled, slamming his drink onto the table as well and stomping out of the kitchen and into the living room where the six freeloaders were waiting, all comfortably gathered in front of his television set. "—YOUR BUTLER!"

His unwanted guests turned their furry heads to him, each wearing a look of slight alarm. All except the one reclining idly in his armchair, naturally, who regarded Dibble with barely a trace of concern as he settled back, arms behind his head and legs crossed.

"Tisk, tisk, Dib. Mrs. McGillicuddy has probably settled her weary head down for the night, the dear old soul. Imagine, waking her up again a forth night in a row. For shame. And by one of our boys in blue, too."

Dibble clenched a fist at his side, but lowered his voice just the same, not risking yet another noise complaint from the old bag downstairs.

"I ain't bringin' you guys popcorn, T.C. You hear me?" the cop sneered. "You're lucky I haven't chucked you lot out the nearest window! Now let me drink my coffee in peace!"

Top Cat gave him a half lidded, side-eyed glance, ready to counter with another quip, but Choo Choo cut him short as he shot up from the floor suddenly. "I'll get 'em, T.C.!"

He flew past Dibble like a pink blur into the kitchen, and returned with the requested bowls of popcorn with alarmingly quick speed. The angry cop would have most certainly been toppled right over had he not stepped out the way in the nick of time.

"Ah, you see that, Dib? True friendship! Such selflessness. Such charity," Top Cat spouted as he took a bowl from his comrade. "You oughta learn a thing or two from Saint Chooch over here."

Their unwilling housemate let out another growl and stomped back out of the room.

"My gracious, what a temper. Remind me to put a bit more sugar in his coffee tomorrow."

The cats curled up into an even cozier pile on the floor as the late night program started. Eager hands dug into the popcorn bowls while the opening credits to the feature flew past the tiny, twelve-inch screen. Honestly, Top Cat thought. How did Dibble not lose his eyesight with such a lousy old model?

"Oh, I love this one!" crowed Choo Choo through a mouthful of popcorn. "Ain't this the one with the swamp thing?"

"Nah, man, like—" the olive green cat to the right of him started, swallowing a mouthful of his own. "—it's an alien movie. Visitors from outer space. Like, invasion. Real crazy."

Benny gave a small gasp, looking excited, yet a bit apprehensive. "Is it bad, fellas?"

"Creepsville. Total creepsville, man."

The smallest in the group gulped his popcorn down in a manner that was far from pleasant. "Aw jeez, fellas. Maybe Lucy's on instead?"

"Benny, Benny, Benny," their leader crooned from his perch behind them on Dibble's chair. "I told ya a million times, it's all just smoke and mirrors. Smoke, mirrors and a dollar store costume here and there. Now pipe down, alla' yas, will you? How's a guy supposed to hear over all this yappin'?"

Dibble, for his part, was back to simmering in his own rage back in the kitchen. He drummed his fingers on the table in silent fury, wishing he could go back into the tiny living room and personally wipe the smug look on Top Cat's face clean off.

Three weeks in and he was certain he'd already spouted at least nine or ten new white hairs. How on Earth was he supposed to last four entire months? It was a test of endurance. One his sanity wasn't liable to survive through.

A woman's scream from the other room made him further snarl in annoyance as the cats' cheap, two-dollar budget B-movie continued onwards.

Of all the ridiculous nonsense, Dibble thought to himself with a grumpy sip of his coffee. Aliens. What baloney. It truly didn't surprise him that that idiotic bunch would be entertained by such drivel.

Martians from outer space.

What a gag. What an inane, boneheaded, birdbrained jo-

Suddenly he paused mid-sip, struck like lightning by an idea.

With light steps, he passed through the living area and into his bedroom, not disturbing the felines who were currently far too engrossed with the happenings on the screen to take notice of the off-duty officer. As he went he noticed that Benny, even by this early point in the film, had wormed his way off the floor and onto a spot next to T.C. on the armchair, clutching his leader's arm like a frightened, quivering child.

Top Cat, while very clearly annoyed, allowed it for now, not taking his own eyes off the tiny screaming crowds of people running for their lives on the set.

Dibble ducked into his room and quickly shut the door behind him, stifling down what was almost a diabolical sounding cackle.

He hoped it was still there. Halloween had only been a short few weeks ago, but perhaps luck was on his side and he hadn't yet tossed away that silly mask he'd confiscated from those two trouble making, egg chucking punk kids he'd had the pleasure of dragging into the station during the holiday.

Digging through his closet the officer muttered a low curse or two, unable to find it. He was just about ready to give up when he caught a glimpse of the ugly thing poking out from behind his shoe rack, flattened and looking like it'd clearly seen better days. It must have fallen behind there at some point, and he silently thanked the stars while a sinister grin began to spread across his haggard face.

It was a snug fit, and it smelled utterly revolting, but the man placed the old martian mask on just the same.

Back in the living room, the fur on every cat, from head to tail tip, was standing on end. Widened eyes were glued to the tiny screen as the film's trembling heroine stood alone at a bus stop, peering over her shoulder at the darkened, seemingly deserted city streets behind her.

The alien ambassador was approaching silently, tasked with the order of bringing back as many human specimens as possible to his home planet. He'd gathered up most of the residents of the city and carried them off screaming to his UFO, but only one human still remained, ready to be snatched up. His twenty hideous eyes scanned the helpless woman, and his spider-like limbs skittered forth slowly from the darkness, ready to pounce.

Benny's face was entirely buried into Top Cat's arm, unable to watch. The rest of the cats shook like fuzzy maracas on the floor, Choo Choo pulling mercilessly at the stitching on his sweater and Spook digging his nails into Fancy's shoulder. The brownish tomcat winced quietly as he trembled himself, keeping a comforting paw on Brain's back, who was barely able to watch the movie at all through his shaking fingers.

Even Top Cat, THE indisputable Top Cat, looked a shade or two paler as he gaped at the television, arms crossed but failing to convey his usual cool demeanor.

Someone above surely must have been smiling down on Dibble, for he couldn't have been given a more perfect moment.

Mask adjusted and arms raised, the cop proceeded to do the most immature thing he'd ever done in his otherwise by-the-book, straight laced life and made a mad dash back into the living room, hollering and synching up flawlessly with the alien ambassador.

A mere six minutes later found the man standing in front of his bathroom mirror, first-aid kit in hand.

Real impressive how they'd somehow managed to pierce the thick hard plastic to reach his face.

Yet despite the pain and the sound of old Mrs. McGillicuddy's broom banging against the ceiling below him, Dibble still smirked to himself, devilish laughter emitting from him as he dabbed the large scratch across his nose with alcohol.

Though fleeting, revenge had still been sweet, and the amount of feet Top Cat and his bunch had jumped into the air had been well worth it.


	4. Chapter 4

What a day.

Outsmarted again. Three times, even! Once in the morning when he'd come just a thin hair away from finally nabbing T.C. for answering his phone for the hundredth, millionth time, and another in the afternoon when that infuriating cat and his entire bunch conned yet another free lunch out of him.

That little weasel could at the very least cut him some slack and choose a cheaper restaurant. Just once.

Oh ho, but it didn't stop there. On top of all that, T.C. also just had to go all out today with his ridiculous petting zoo scheme. The several dozen holes left in the officer's slacks preserved the terrifying memory all too evidently. It'd probably be years before he could ever look at another goat again without recoiling in horror.

The haggard officer threw his hat onto the floor, too exhausted to even make an attempt for the coat rack, and threw off his jacket in a similar manner, muttering a few choice words beneath his breath as he angrily stomped over to his bed and collapsed on it, ready to put this loathsome travesty of a day behind him at last.

He would have been content to drift off into well-deserved sleep, but a soft sound suddenly started up right outside his window, just loud enough to grab his tired attention. He mumbled, irritated, as he rolled over on the bed, assuming a neighbor had simply left their radio on.

Heck, it honestly wasn't that bad sounding anyway.

Sounded like some flavor of the week crooner singing. The sort young girls these days liked, or so he imagined, old man that was (or felt he was, at least). The voice was rather velvety and charming in it's way as it drawled out poetic sounding lyrics of moonlight, stars and other such romantic nonsense, so Dibble decided it most certainly had to be one of those dozen indistinguishable teen idol types they had nowadays on magazines and such.

The strong accent sure made the singer stand out, though, Dibble thought with a yawn as he drifted off.

Only for his bloodshot eyes to pop open again when the realization hit him.

"TOP CAT!" he hollered from his window, craning his neck out onto the fire escape. It brought the singing to an abrupt end, and two shining orbs blinked and turned up towards him from below.

"Why good evening, officer Dibble, sir," came that oh so familiar tone. "Didn't know you were a music lover, sir. Have a request?"

Sometimes Dibble honestly couldn't tell if T.C. got a sick kick out of angering him, or if he truly did just live in his own private, detached, self-centered little world. Probably a bit of both, he decided.

"I got a request all right, wise guy! More of a demand, as a matter a fact!" he snarled down at the creature standing calmly on the fence. "I demand that you pipe down before I drag you down to the station for disturbing the peace!"

"Ah, but you're off duty, officer Dibble, sir," came the dry retort.

The furry pest's form was a small black shadow in the darkness, but those two golden, illuminated eyes still managed to stare back at him through a half-lidded gaze. They would have almost been unsettling had Dibble not known they simply belonged to the bane of his existence.

"There's no such thing as off-duty to a good cop, now beat it! Before I beat ya myself!"

Even though it was dark, Dibble could still tell T.C. was grinning, completely unfazed by the threat.

It was just like him.

"Honestly, Drizzle. Bank robberies, murders, jewel heists—an untold number of unscrupulous scandals and deplorable crimes going on tonight in our fair city, and here you are getting your long johns in a twist over a little late night singing."

"Squawking is more like it," Dibble countered.

At this the cat became offended. "Excuse me?!" his voice uncharacteristically snapped before quickly reeling back into it's usual composed tone, albeit with a coating of ice. "You better make an appointment to see the doctor first thing in the morning, Dib. Your hearing's startin' to fail ya. Typical for a man your age."

Dibble suddenly found himself really tempted to remove one of his shoes and throw it.

"Besides, mister late night killjoy. I just so happen to be providing a helpful service here," Top Cat went on, placing a paw on his chest for emphasis, though it obviously went unseen in the darkness to the officer above. "I'm givin' any fortunate citizen within hearing distance a taste of fine music. Embracing them with passionate song. Lovingly caressing the ear of every nearby weary everyman and everywoman with my soothing serenade. Wooing the night air with—"

"I'm growin' old here, T.C."

"Oh, well, I better stop then. You ain't got too many years left in ya by this point, do ya, Dib?"

"TOP CAT."

That's it. The shoe was definitely coming off now.

"Aw please, officer Dibble!" came a second voice out of the darkness suddenly, that shrill yelp unmistakably belonging to Benny. "Don't get mad at T.C. I'm the one who asked him to sing!"

The cop lowered the shoe back down and brought his hand up to massage his temples instead.

Of course there were more of them out there. Of course.

"It's just..." Benny's voice continued, sounding so small and nervous that Dibble was almost tempted to soften up a little. Almost.

"...T.C. used ta sing a lot ta me when we was small... and I.. aw gee, I dunno... I couldn't sleep tonight and thought m-maybe it'd be nice ta hear a little bit of it again. For old time's sake."

Top Cat's body shifted into a more relaxed stance on the fence, infuriating smile cool and confident as always. Dibble didn't need to see it in order to know it was there.

"There, Dib. Ya went and caught me," he began in a sarcastic tone. "Uncovered my true motive. How dare I, HOW DARE I, do something as unspeakably heinous as _sing a lullaby?_"

The cat placed a paw on his forehead and threw his head back, giving an over-the-top gasp in mock horror.

"Deplorable! Utterly deplorable! Cuff me, Dib, cuff me right away."

The cats heard a slap as Dibble proceeded to tiredly smack himself in the face and run his hand down his features very slowly and angrily.

"Can it," he hissed, then he turned his attention to where the sound of Benny's voice had come from. The smaller cat's eyes shone back bashfully from behind Top Cat's trash bin beneath the fence. "Ain't you a bit old for lullabies, Benny?"

The blue cat's eyes disappeared behind the bin, shrinking back in embarrassment. "Y-yeah, gosh, I guess I am. That's why I didn't wanna say nothin' until ya started yellin' at T.C."

"It's fine, Benny. I'll take the wrap for this one. Ol Dib's got me dead to rights," Top Cat gently interjected. "And I'm sure the sergeant will be more than happy to be woken up at this late hour of the night in order to be presented with a prisoner facing such a trivial—oh ho, forgive me— _serious_ charge. No doubt you'll be promoted on the spot, Dib."

"I really hate you, you know that."

Top Cat smirked. "Aw, and after all those Christmas cards I sent ya?"

Dibble groaned, warily giving into the fact that he'd been defeated yet again that day, for the forth, confounded time.

"Fine! Go on and squawk all night! I'm too darn tired to care, so just do what ya want, ya little—ya little- ARGH!" and with that he slammed the window, marching back into his apartment in a huff.

"Aw, gee," Benny's voice mumbled in the dark at his leader. "We made Officer Dibble awful sore."

"Don't worry about it," the older cat replied, still smirking up at the cop's now closed window. "He'll cool down after a good night's rest."

Despite feeling rather guilty, Benny still settled back down into his makeshift bed made out of discarded old newspapers and pulled the thin front-page cover back up over his chubby body.

"Cozy?" his leader asked, prompting Benny to give an eager nod.

"Swell, real swell," Top Cat sighed, now sounding a little tired himself and able to show it now that Officer Dibble was gone. "But lemme tell ya, Benny boy, this is the last night, you hear me? Dib's at least right about one thing. Yer gettin' way to old for the whole 'sing me to sleep, momma' bit."

Flashing him the big sad eyes was all Benny had to do to make Top Cat groan in defeat, and Benny lay his head back down onto the crumpled up wad of paper that was his pillow to hear the rest of his song.

From underneath his blankets, a grouchy, half-asleep Dibble hated to admit it, but it was pretty nice.

Darn that T.C.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: I thought Dib deserved to have another small victory.

* * *

Nobody had anticipated the sudden robbery. It happened late in the evening.

Officer Dibble was just about ready to finish up his patrol and head home for the night when he first heard the gunshots.

Thankfully the street he chased the robbers down was almost completely empty. All of the scarce civilians who were unlucky enough to be walking down it at the time had wisely ducked behind cars or into restaurants and stores upon hearing the commotion, paving way for the chase. Dibble could also hear the approaching sound of sirens, much to his relief, informing him that backup was quickly on the way.

It was thanks to pure adrenaline that he was able to keep up, sweat pouring from his brow as he ran with his gun at the ready. A small part of him was actually enjoying it, in a way. That rush he felt, reminding him of the way he once felt when he first started on the force years ago as a young man. That feeling of heroism. It was as intoxicating then as it was now.

Right up until the criminals turned into the alley.

Of all the alleys in New York, it had to be that one.

Those darn cats had been playing poker again. Their cards lay scattered on the ground, quickly abandoned by the frightened felines when they saw the criminals coming. For a few seconds the alley sounded very much like an ear splitting orchestra of alarmed yowls as they fled. Save for Brain, whose wheels had turned far too slowly for him to even realize the amount of danger that was swiftly approaching.

Dibble remembered seeing T.C. make a jagged beeline back to grab the clueless younger cat by the arm and all but drag him off his feet and shove him behind the fence.

The robbers were pretty much beside him by the time Brain had been shoved to safety, and not even the quickest alley cat in all the city could scramble away fast enough to avoid the two panicked humans slamming into him. Dibble brought his own run to a grinding halt upon seeing the disoriented pile on the floor, and raised his gun up to the criminals, scowl set on his face.

"Don't move!" he demanded.

With two swift blurs of their hands, the crooks had their own weapons up and pointed at the cop as well, and the trio stared each other down.

The cat, unfortunately still caught between them, kept low to the ground, ears flat against his head and his pupils thin in panic.

For T.C.'s sake, Dibble had to keep things from spiraling out of hand. The sight of his trembling nemesis, clearly trying his very best to look cool and composed while crouched on the ground, was more than enough to strengthen the officer's determination as he hardened his gaze at the men.

"Drop. Your. Weapons."

He'd all but snarled it through his gritted teeth.

The two men's faces were unreadable behind their masks, but Dibble was still able to catch the quick flicker of the one on the right's eyes turning to the cat on the ground. Dibble had tried to remain stone-faced, but apparently some part of his expression had betrayed him, showing the armed man his fear, and the barrel of his gun was soon pointed at T.C.'s head.

The cat's pupils somehow managed to grow smaller.

"Drop your weapons," Dibble repeated, but it was pretty clear that his voice now had an ounce of pleading to it this time around.

The next few seconds felt very much like a whirlwind of blurs. In a mere blink, the middle aged cop had moved faster than Top Cat had ever imaged him capable, diving in front of the furry hostage as the sound of the bullet rang out. The officer's body hit the ground with a thud, and the robbers were immediately off, barreling out of the alley with their goods in tow.

Dibble winched in pain, gritting his teeth again as he lay there, furious at himself for letting them get away.

That is until he heard the sound of fellow officers shouting in the near distance as the crooks found themselves running smack dab into five or so backup police cars just waiting for them right outside the alley.

Thank goodness, Dibble thought to himself weakly, wincing again. He'd managed to buy time, which heck, was an accomplishment he was happy to take at the moment.

The robbers glumly dropped their guns, and bystanders, as well as five terribly relieved cats gathered up in a huddle on a nearby fire escape, watched as the two were carted away into the police wagon.

Inside the alley, however, it was deathly silent as the shaken cat looked down at Dibble's fallen, motionless form.

Top Cat, for his part, was for one of the exceedingly rare times of his life, actually speechless.

He hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, save for lifting his bare head. His hat lay off to the side, right near his foot, but the cat had yet to notice that it had been knocked off in the scuffle. He only sat there with an empty, unreadable expression as he stared at the police officer. At the man whom he absolutely loved to aggravate and heckle, day in and day out.

The man who made life far tougher than it needed to be for him and his daily schemes. The guy whose name was synonymous with 'wet blanket' and 'killjoy.'

The guy who just took a_ bullet_ for him.

Just a mere ten minutes ago, Dibble would have reveled in the thought of a broken T.C. It had almost been his very life's goal to see that cat break, but upon cracking open his eyes and actually seeing it... actually seeing the frighteningly uncharacteristic sight Top Cat sitting there just a short foot away, with his head bowed down and newly retrieved hat covering his face, instantly filled the officer with guilt.

He slowly pulled himself up, not standing to see it for a moment longer.

He groaned, willing himself to speak. To say something, anything, to assure the feline that he was all right, but he was still a touch too disoriented to form words.

His nemesis' face instantly shot up in alarm, and Dibble was shocked to find that from beneath the brim of the straw hat, two eyes, usually half-lidded and full of cocksure confidence, were revealed to be tinged with a thin layer of... of...

Tears.

Dibble almost had to rub his own eyes, certain that the sight he was seeing couldn't possibly be real.

They stared at each other for a long few moments, both man and cat. They sat bewildered at what they both considered to be impossible sights. Dibble still somehow being alive for Top Cat, and Top Cat, _the_ Top Cat, actually _crying_ for Dibble.

Why, for years he didn't even think T.C. was capable of any emotion outside of smug and slightly more smug. Dibble honestly wouldn't have believed it if he didn't see it with his very own eyes. The image would probably be burned into his mind forever.

After several more blinks, something in the cat apparently brought him back to his senses, and his immediate instinct was to turn away, paws flying to his face to wipe away the liquid. He did it so feverishly, Dibble was almost afraid the cat would tear his very own face off.

"Y-you- _how are you-?!"_

The cat took a sharp breath, desperate to compose himself.

"_Where do you get off still bein' alive?!"_

Dibble was torn between feeling bad for the cat, and wanting to chuckle at the sight. His lips curled into a grin without him realizing as he opened his shirt to reveal the bulletproof vest underneath.

Top Cat blinked several more times as the realization set in, and bit his lip angrily. He looked just about ready to either sink into the ground in utter embarrassment or chuck the cop into the nearest river. Perhaps both.

Oh boy, Dibble thought, the smirk on his lip incapable of not forming. It may have been painful to score, but this once in a lifetime moment was going to be thoroughly enjoyed, that he knew for sure.

"Why Top Cat," he started, and the cat instantly shot him a warning glare, as if daring him to finish that sentence if he didn't want to gain himself a dozen or so scratch marks on his fat head.

"You weren't worried about your old pal, Officer Dibble, were you?"

Oh yeah. It certainly looked like 'chucking him into the nearest river' was the option Top Cat had settled on, given the not at all concealed rage growing in his livid eyes.

Dibble couldn't keep his laughter in any longer.

He'd fantasied about it for years. To catch Top Cat off guard. To finally,_ finally_, shatter that eternally cool cat's facade and get that insufferably smug little twerp to crack, if only for one brief, gratifying moment.

"...you're a rat, Drizzle," the cat hissed, face again turned away as Dibble's laughter died down.

"I'm sorry, T.C." he choked through the last of his shameless cackles.

The cat balled his paws up into tiny fists at his sides from where he sat. "You tell anybody about this and I'm denyin' it. You understand me?" his voice was still wavering a bit.

Dibble gave a playful grin. "Relax. Nobody'd believe me anyway. Not in a million years."

There was a long pause between them before Dibble spoke up again, basking way too much in what he was sure was one of the only times in his life he'd ever have the upper hand on the cat.

"Y'know, you oughta try that whole bein' cute thing more often."

The dirty look Top Cat shot him, coupled with his tail frizzing up in sheer rage, was priceless. "I wish they'd really killed ya."

Again, Dibble laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Another more light-hearted oneshot. This one again takes place during the episode, "The Long Hot Winter." There's just so many moments that can be milked from that one.

EDIT: Sorry to delete and re-upload this chapter. I wasn't happy with it, so I decided to trim it down and rewrite it in places.

* * *

Top Cat marched himself around Dibble's kitchen, diligently inspecting every station he'd assigned the others to. He carried his natural air of authority, despite only being tall enough to just barely peer over each counter.

Each was cat donned in a tiny apron, matching their leader, and stood on various stools. Or in some cases, stacks of books or violin records. Eh, Dibble probably wouldn't mind, they figured.

"Chooch, how's that soup comin' along?" T.C. turned to the pink cat stirring a large steaming pot on the stove. Said stirrer was just about to open his mouth to answer, when the shorter, sleepy-eyed orange cat beside him on his shared stepladder dropped a carrot into the bowl, causing a small splash.

"_ACK!_" Both cats shrunk back and Choo Choo shot Brain a look. "You're supposed to slice 'em up first!"

"Oh gee, sorry."

Top Cat sighed and moved on, coming up to the finely groomed brown cat stirring a smaller bowl on his arm. "How 'bout them cranberries, Fancy?"

The brown cat turned to him and gave his own fingers a kiss. "Dee-_LEC_-table, T.C. Simply dee-_LEC_-table!"

"Now that's what I like to hear," their leader declared, giving Fancy's shoulder a proud pat. Fancy let him hover his nose over the bowl to give it a good whiff, and the yellow cat grinned wide, letting out a pleased purr.

"You weren't kiddin,' that smells great! Just like ma never could make."

They shared a laugh before T.C. called over to the other side of the kitchen where half of Benny's short, pudgy body stood, while the other half was leaned into the oven.

"Benny! Benny boy, how's the bird?"

Benny's eager face quickly popped out, smile almost as big as his rapidly escalating appetite. "It's lookin' beautiful, T.C.! She'll be ready in just another hour," he squealed, smile almost engulfing his chubby face completely. "Gosh, this is so swell! It's just like bein' back home an' makin' dinner with ma and the whole family!"

"Yeah, we're a regular Swiss Family Robinson," crooned his leader, looking rather satisfied as he strolled back into the center of the kitchen. "And to think Dib thought we couldn't do it. I told ya this'd be the easiest forty clams we ever made."

Heck, to be honest, a part of him _was_ surprised that they were pulling it off. Aside from Benny and maybe Chooch, none of them had ever so much as picked up a frying pan before. But resilience, as well as a fair amount of spite, would see him and his gang though to the end. All while hopefully knocking a certain stingy cop down a peg or two in the process.

That argument they'd had with said cop was that morning was still fresh on Top Cat's mind.

"I'm through providin' you deadbeats with another free meal," he'd said. Or rather _threatened_. "The only way you're gettin' even ONE scrap of food is if you lazy good-for-nothing's make it yourselves!"

T.C.'s golden eyes narrowed in irritation at the memory.

Feh. Fine, if that's the way he wants it. Oh sure, the cat knew darn well he could play the cop like a fiddle and get him and his charges as many free dinners as they wanted. Wouldn't be tough at all. Why it'd almost be a waste of his talents.

But their honor had been insulted.

Well, ok, "honor" was a stretch, but the group was still determined to prove old Dib wrong. 'Cides, how hard could it be, Top Cat had mused.

"How bout you, Spook? How's the minc— _Spook, whatt'a think you're doin'?!_"

The calm look on Top Cat's face all but shattered when he turned to the cat standing on a stack of old books, mincing vegetables.

The olive green cat didn't look up from his station. He was momentarily off in his own world, bobbing his head to his own internal soundtrack as he sliced. His eyes weren't even open, in fact, as the paw holding the piece of celery down on the cutting board drummed carelessly and quite dangerously close to the paw rapidly chopping with a sharp knife.

"Spook! **Spook!**"

A yank on his tail brought him back to reality, but the chopping paw didn't cease. He just flashed T.C. an oblivious grin. "Like, yeah pops?"

Top Cat began to look sick, not taking his eyes off the furry green fingers still drumming on the chopping board. "What're ya tryin' to do, lose a limb?! Would ya pay attention?"

"Like, I am, dad. I got a whole rhythm going."

"I mean, would ya watch your fing—"

Spook stopped abruptly, and Top Cat would have screamed had he not stifled himself using sheer willpower.

He did, however, turn several shades paler as Spook withdrew his paw and clutched it, tail bristling and face contorting in silent pain.

"Spook!" The rest of the furry would be chefs turned their heads over to them, alarmed by their leader's sudden shouting. "_Spook! You alright?!_"

There was a sickeningly long beat of silence as the cat in question clenched his eyes shut and bit down hard on his bottom lip. When he opened his eyes again, the green pupils were alarmingly large, giving him the uncharacteristic appearance of a kitten on the verge of tears.

"Like... ow," was all he managed to squeak.

Top Cat leapt up onto the stack of books beside him, caught between being worried and wanting to smack the absent-minded cat upside the head. "I told ya to be careful, you numbskull!"

"What happened?" asked Choo Choo from where he still stood on his stepladder. Brain's face peered over his shoulder, also curious.

"Yeah, what's goin' on?" Benny was already shutting the oven door and waddling over. As was Fancy, just minus the waddling.

Top Cat, meanwhile, couldn't get Spook to show him his hand. He was practically wrestling with the rigidly stiff cat who stood quietly, staring off into space with a numb expression. "This moron cut himself!"

"Oh no!" Benny's round face lit up with alarm. "Why weren't ya more careful, Spook?"

"That's what _I_ told him! Now let me see your fingers, would ya!"

Using all his might, he tried prying the coiled up paws apart by force, but nearly jumped off the stack of books and onto the ceiling when Benny suddenly shrieked.

"_HOLY MACKEREL—SPOOK'S FINGER IS ON THE COUNTER!"_

A collection of startled screeches quickly followed. Top Cat's irises shrunk, and soon the kitchen began to spin around him until it abruptly went black, his body swaying before falling backwards off of the book stack. Luckily, Fancy raced over in the nick of time to catch their squeamish leader before his head had the chance to connect with the kitchen tile.

Spook on the other hand, remained as silent and rigid as before, despite every inch of his brain telling him to scream. He kept it bottled it in, however, only squeaking out another small "ow," as the others gathered near in panic.

"We gotta call an ambulance!" Choo Choo flailed his arms, tail equally frizzled as he scrambled to their fallen leader and injured comrade.

"Duuh... an ambulance, or a vet?"

"Now ain't the time to question which level of the humanity totem pole we fall under—just call _somebody!_"

Fancy, meanwhile, was fanning Top Cat with his scarf as Benny hopped his short legs onto the stack next to Spook. "I-I know w-what to do!" his quivering voice failed to hide his distress. "W-we gotta put it on ice so the doctors c-c-can r-reattach it, and—"

He suddenly went quiet, blinking hard as he stared at the counter.

The others grew more nervous as he reached out and picked the green "finger" up off the cutting board, some turning away in horror. It was only Benny's sudden relieved laugh that cleared the thick, nerve-wracking tension in the air.

"Ahaha, f-fellas, I was wrong! Aw geez, this ain't no finger, it's just a piece a' celery!"

"WHAT."

Top Cat's agitated voice alarmed everyone as he suddenly sprang back to life.

Benny triumphantly held the food piece up high so the shaken cats gathered beneath him could see.

Spook, in turn, finally came out of his stupor, blinking twice before fearfully peering down at his still coiled up paws. He slowly pulled them apart, and aside from a small cut on his thumb, each of his digits was still very much intact.

He bit his lip again, this time to hold down a chuckle as his rubbed the back of neck sheepishly.

"Eheh, like, uh... close call, huh?"

Top Cat's tail bristled.

He was just about to get up and deliver a good bop onto both Benny and mister close call's heads, when a sizzling behind them suddenly caught the entire group's ear. Six feline heads turned around to find Choo Choo and Brain's abandoned pot of soup boiling over and overflowing.

"CHOOCH! THE STOVE!"

The apartment was filled with shrieks yet again.

_—_

Dibble returned home from the store shortly afterward, bags of groceries in his arms and an irritated look on his face, to find the cats all mopping the floor rather than cooking as he'd left them doing so earlier. All with the exception of T.C. who, rather humorously, was currently dragging a cringing Spook out of the room by his ear while clenching a first aid kit under his other arm.

The cop could still hear the two cats' voices from within the bathroom after Top Cat angrily slammed it.

Top Cat's was trailing off a rather impressive stream of curses while Spook's replied back with embarrassed laughter and an "I'm sorry, pops!" after every other sentence.

As silently as possible, the cop poked his head into the bathroom curiously, and found his yellow rival was apparently tending to a wound on the necktie-wearing cat's hand.

"I swear, Spook, I swear—you nearly gave me an aneurism, ya numbskull! From now on, you're not authorized to handle sharp objects."

"Man, like, T.C., come on, I, like, got it this time. I'll be more, like, careful."

"You'll be more, like, _nothin.'_ You're on stir duty from now on."

Dibble cleared his throat, entering. He wanted to retain his usual gruff, still furious at the whole 'six freeloading cats living with me' situation, but the smug look of victory beginning to spread on his face was making it difficult. He _knew_ those deadbeats wouldn't be able to do it.

Spook, apparently oblivious to the cop's patronizing smirk, greeted him with a cheerful wave of his non-injured hand. "Like, uh, hi."

"Do I wanna ask?"

Top Cat closed his eyes, breathing deep as to collect himself, and glanced back at the policeman with his usual cool attitude. "Just a bit trouble with the cutlery is all."

"I see," Dibble said with a nasty snicker. "Well, T.C. I guess this was one bet ya won't be winnin' after all, now will ya?"

The cat remained cool for another good minute before, much to the cop's surprise, he suddenly let out a drained sigh in what looked like defeat.

"All right, Dib." He took off his hat and gave the man a humbled bow. "Ya got us. You win."

Spook hopped up and took his place beside his conquered leader, looking just as humbled, and Dibble couldn't very well believe it. "We tried, Dib," Top Cat went on. "Worked to the very best of our _oh so_ meager abilities. Why, Spook here even injured himself!"

The green cat lifted his bandaged hand to show, wearing an ashamed frown on his face while his ears drooped.

Dibble started to feel a little guilty at this, and gave the back of his neck a rub. "You guys really _did_ give it an honest try, didn't ya?"

The two cats stared up at him wistfully, eyes large and full of shame.

"Aw jeez, not the look, fellas!" Dibble cringed, turning away, and groaned.

Then, much to his own annoyance, he softened, giving them a weak smile. "All right. Listen. How 'bout I let you guys have the dough anyway?"

Top Cat's furry eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "But Dib, we didn't pull it off!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

The cop sighed again, kneeling down to gently place his hands on both their shoulders, much like a patient, understanding parent. "But ya _tried_. That's what matters. So take the cash."

The cats returned his smile.

Why, they looked downright touched, and the officer felt his usually gruff heart slightly warmed by the sight.

"I don't care what they say about you cops, Dib!" Top Cat declared, giving the officer an admiring poke to his chest. "Ya got a heart a' gold- _solid gold!_"

Before Dibble could oh so modestly respond though, the sound of his doorbell ringing suddenly caught his ear, and a distant call of "Delivery!" filled the air.

Just like that, the tender moment, as well as the cop's smile, evaporated almost instantaneously, and was replaced with a twitching, furious glare as the situation took no time in dawning on him.

Top Cat and Spook, on the other hand, exchanged a playful glance,_ their_ smiles not wavering in the slightest.

"Just give the dough to the delivery guy, Dib. Forty clams oughta cover the bill just fine."

"_TOP CAT!_"


End file.
